Sweet Honour- Benedict Bridgerton

28.My Dear, Oh So Fair Lady

Together, they drank the muddy water and waited for the opium to take effect. They had perched themselves on a stone wall - a sort of divider between the gardens- at the back of the house and watched as the sky grew darker than they knew it could ever be. Victoria started to feel uneasy, sickly even, and began to worry. She turned to Benedict, who's eyes were trained on the sky. It was quiet and the air was cool, the wind brushed her hair behind her shoulders and she noticed his curls swayed slightly in the breeze too. 

"Is this going to kill me?" She asked, it occured to her that she did not know how loud she was speaking. 

"No, it was only a little." He turned to look at her, slowly drawing his eyes away from the sky and into her eyes. "It is always strange at first." He smiled with that cheshire cat grin. She just nodded, and they looked back up to the sky. "That ones Orion." Benedict blurted after some time, his finger pointed to a constellation up above. She shuffled over to him and rested her head on his shoulder, for her head was feeling very tired and heavy, and he did not seem to pay mind. 

A small "Awh" was all she could muster in response. She knew nothing about astrology.

"And that one is Eridanus. Lepus is a little bit more to the south and will unveil itself soon." He sighed, checking his pocket watch. He turned to her and she smiled weakly, looking up at him. 

"Do drugs turn you into an acclaimed astrologer, Benedict?" 

"Ah, acclaimed is too generous. Amateur suits me more I think." He rubbed his hand along her arm, she was feeling cold in the night air. "It's more of a hobby and Colin has taught me small parts, the rest I get from books or paintings. Are you cold?" He asked, but he knew she was.

"It is bizarre." She hiccupped. "I am both hot and cold. I feel on top of the world yet upside down simultaneously." 

Benedict hopped down from the ledge. "Come on now." He said, holding a hand out for her. 

"But you are sooooo farrrr awayyyyy!" Victoria wailed as she looked down at him, he looked as small as an ant from her perspective and in turn she felt like a giant. 

"I will catch you. Now, jump. I am not as far away as you think."

"Alright then. If this kills me I will haunt you." Her tone was full of warning as she furrowed her brows and perpared herself to launch from the ledge. She scooted to the edge and fell forward. She had not realised she closed her eyes until she opened them and she was in his arms, as though he was carrying her as his bride. "Good catch Bridgerton." She giggled as he let her feet swing to the grass so that she could stand.

"I told you just so." 

"I am no longer tired!" She said with a gasp, grabbing his hand, pulling him slowly back to the party raging inside the house. They entered through the back door and walked through the halls, where Victoria spotted a top hat laid forgotten on a chair. She picked it up and placed it on her head with a huff, turning to him. "My dear, oh so fair lady, would you do me the kindest honour of a dance?" She said in the most manly voice she could muster.

"Why yes, of course." Benedict replied, taking her hand and following her into the dining room where the fiddlist and pianist played still, how they had the stamina they did not know. They played an upbeat folk song and people still danced on tables with fervour and enthusiasm, stamping their feet down and clapping to the infectious beat.

Victoria and Benedict got themselves involved in a jig. People were weaving in and around one another, linking arms and skipping in circles, clapping as they neared the edge and returning to their partner. Victoria did truly feel on top of the world: with her arm linked in his as they danced around, laughing and whooping to the music, she felt as though she could never be brought down. They pressed their palms together and came closer, then outward, then in again, then out and she was spun by him. Through her eyes, her world was a blur as she spun but still she would catch glimpses of a hazy smile and blue eyes and she knew they belonged to him. He watched her hair flow with every spin of her body and his heart beat a little faster every time.

The top hat was abandoned again, on the floor this time. The dance ended as the musicians stopped for a drink of water or whiskey or wine and people began to register their aching feet. 

Benedict, with his arm around her shoulder leaned down to whisper, "Do drugs make you an acclaimed dancer then, Victoria." He gently tucked her hair behind her ear.

She laughed at his sarcasm but her skin was set alight by his touch. 

"Acclaimed is too generous." She said after a long breath, regaining composure and consciousness from a feeling that overwhelmed her, a feeling that was foreign yet welcomed dearly. 

"Follow me." He whispered.

He led her out of the crowds of dancers, away from those in discussions of politics or economy, away from the noise and clatter. Away up the stairs they went into a tucked away room. Douglas' library, it appeared to be. Hundreds of books on shelves lining the walls, a desk with papers strewn across it, sofa chairs with books resting on them too. He guided her to the bay window lined with red cushions and blankets varying in shades of the colour. He pushed both of the windows open and they dangled their legs out of them instinctively. 

"Look," He said, pulling her closer so that her right side was flush against his left, pointing a hand up to the black sky. "Lepus has come out of hiding." However, he was not looking at the sky. He was looking at her and she could feel his gaze, setting her alight once again. 

"Astonishing." She said. "Just like you had predicted." 

"I do like the stars," He said.

"I can tell."

"But I have always, truly, loved the sun." 

"The sun is great, yes." She replied, she could not tell if he was speaking in riddles or truth, it was hard to differentiate with a mind as foggy as hers. 

Her blonde hair reflected in the moonlight as he looked at her and he could not draw his eyes away. "Even under this blanket of darkness you seem to be alight before me." He said.

She squinted her eyes, looking at him. "Are you a poet as well as an artist?" 

"I dabble," He huffed and she looked into his eyes as though they were swirling pools of moonlight that she could not pull herself from. "But this is not poetry I speak, it is truth."

"I do not quite understand."She uttered the words as his finger trailed along her shoulder where her gown had slipped, he was too quick before she could pull the sleeve strap back into place. Her skin felt as though it was on fire, as if a damask of heat had enveloped her with a fever of infatuation, something she had never felt before. 

"You are made of sunlight." His voice was low and the space left between them was next to nothing. "I am always warm where you are and I fear that if I get too close I will burn," he ran his hand down her arm, "but I am willing to risk my life."

Suddenly, the haze of the drug was gone and she was the most present she had ever been in her life. For a moment, she studied him like he was a blank canvas. His jawline, his brows, his eyes, his smile, his eyelashes, his nose, his chin. Even with insurmountable talent she could never replicate a face as perfect as his. He was a whirlpool and she was ready to drown. 

He was leaning closer yet she did not want to pull away. If anything, that was the last thing she would do. She closed her eyes as his lips touched hers, and she felt herself sink slowly into the crystal clear waters of the whirlpool.